


Oh, You Have Left My Heart Black and Blue

by Little_red_2000



Series: Secrets [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: !!, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alpha Derek, Amazing Derek Hale, Awesome Hale Pack, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, But In A Pack Kinda Way, Bye now, Continuation, Derek's Gives Him One, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Like, Like They Are Totally Nice To Stiles, M/M, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug, Sweet Derek, Sweet Hale Pack, They mean well, horrible, not the main characters, seriously, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_red_2000/pseuds/Little_red_2000
Summary: It’s shocking, Stiles thinks, that things managed to be held off this long.He’d expected his dad to be blowing up his phone the second he got off from work, seeing as dinner wasn’t on the table, and his punching bag was missing, but it took three days.OR! The Next Installment Of The Secrets Series!!!





	Oh, You Have Left My Heart Black and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song Caught Like A Fly by Falling in Reverse.
> 
> Hi!! I'm back!! 
> 
> For once, this was actually churned out right before posting and not a backdated work that's been gathering dust in my google docs. It's not beta'd but is well edited. 
> 
> After much angsting, and a few helpful comments, I've decided to continue this series so here ya go!!!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are love!!!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Little Red<3

It’s shocking, Stiles thinks, that things managed to be held off this long.

 

He’d expected his dad to be blowing up his phone the second he got off from work, seeing as dinner wasn’t on the table, and his punching bag was missing, but it took three days. Three whole days before his dad even contacted him.

 

He doesn’t know if he should be thankful for that fact. Probably not since he’s been walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his dad to just show up at Derek’s loft to take him away, or send the police after him.

 

It’s actually very anti-climactic the way that things go down.

 

*****

His pack, especially Derek, were extra nice to him for the first day, which bugged Stiles more than he could ever express. Like they thought that he was so broken that they couldn’t even make fun of him anymore, or that he couldn’t do anything for himself. 

 

The only one who treated him relatively normal was Jackson, and even he was less of a dick than usual. 

 

It came to a head that night when Stiles was trying to escape from the pile of limbs that were Isaac and Erica and they refused to let him up, saying that Scott could go get whatever Stiles needed. Part of him had wanted to be grateful, they cared at least, but the bigger part; the part that just wants to be normal, overcame him.

 

“I am not some damsel that needs things handed to me! I am still the same Stiles that I’ve always been. You were mean, crabby, dicks before you knew that…” Stiles pauses, choking up a bit because he still can’t say ‘abused’ out loud. He takes a breath and regroups before continuing. “I expect you guys to treat me the exact same as you did before, okay? Because I honestly don’t think I can handle you guys treating me differently.”

 

“Oh, great! Well then, can you make those nachos that I like?” Jackson says, the first one to speak after a few beats of silence. 

 

Stiles can’t help bursting out in laughter and going to make the nachos, just to be out of the room. 

 

__

 

Things are relatively calm after that, almost normal, but Stiles just spent his time checking his phone and flinching every time he heard sirens. He was freaked, scared that his dad was going to notice that he was gone and send the cops after Derek as he’d promised.

 

He still doesn’t know how his dad found out about Derek, but one day, Stiles was second away from a punch to the ribs and he’d screamed that he would call the cops if his dad hit him again.

 

“You do that, boy, and I’ll have that mangy mutt you call an alpha in jail so fast that he won’t be able to say goodbye,” And the Sheriff had known that he’d won too, because Stiles hadn’t even had time to register the threat before his fist came down.

 

___

 

Three days, that’s how long he got before he woke up to a text message that said,  **_Finished my triple, want dinner. NOW!_ **

 

His dad didn’t know he was gone, because his dad wasn’t even home. Stiles isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry at the news. On the one hand, his dad didn’t  _ not _ notice that he was gone, but on the other, is dad had worked a triple and hadn’t even bothered to tell him.

 

The all caps ‘now’ at the end tells Stiles that his dad is drunk and hungry, which is not good, so not good because the second Stiles gets there, he will be hit for not being there and then forced to cook with a bruised _ wherever _ his dad decides to aim.

 

Without thinking, Stiles scrambles off the couch, throws on his shoes and races around looking for his car keys. 

 

Scott, from his spot between Isaac’s leg, wakes up partially, and asks: “What are you doing?”

 

“My dad needs me,” Stiles says absentmindedly, still searching for his keys. It’s the usual thing he says when he needs to get away from the pack to his father. It’s the truth, but they don’t know everything.

 

“What?” Jackson says strongly, although Stiles thought he was asleep.

 

“He wants food,” Stiles responds, still not thinking as he back-tracks his steps the previous day to find his keys.

 

“And you’re going to give it to him?” Lydia questions, her voice sharp, and Stiles was a hundred percent sure that she was sleeping a few minutes, he’d heard her soft snores when he’d checked the message.

 

“Yeah, why no--” Stiles says, stopping when he looks up to see everyone now awake and staring at him in horror. Stiles rubs his eyes, waking himself up a bit more. It was more or less muscle memory to jump when his father called, he’d done so without being fully awake, but after rubbing his eyes and shaking his head a bit, he wide awake.

 

He now knows why they are looking at him like he’s a ghost. They know. They  _ do _ know everything, and they think he’s a goddamned fool for running when his father calls.

 

“Oh,” Stiles says, and then “OH!” When he finally remembers where his keys are. They’re in the fridge. He and Derek had done a little shopping the day before and he’d set them in there for what he’d thought would only be a second but had then been distracted. (By Derek chugging a bottle of water and he’d watched the way Derek’s Adam's apple bobbed. Then by a stray droplet of water ran down the man’s cheek, through his stubble. But that was his business)

 

“Stiles,” Allison says delicately, cluing Stiles in that she’s about to pity him.

 

“I’m fine!” He yells over her, probably a bit too loud for them all just having woken up, “Seriously. I was just a bit sleepy and didn’t realize, okay?” He’s not fine, not really. Because some part of him, the part that loves his father and still thinks that what he’d gone through was his fault, still wants to run to his father and make him breakfast even though he  _ knows _ the consequences of going home.

 

No, not  _ home  _ anymore. Not home for a long time, actually. The loft is his home now, but really not even that. The  _ Pack _ is his home now.

 

“Okay,” Isaac says, rubbing his fingers through Scott’s hair. Lydia looks like she wants to argue but the curly-haired beta shoots her a look that clearly says  _ don’t _ . Stiles is both grateful and embarrassed.

 

“How about you all go get some breakfast at the diner?” Derek suggests as he comes down the stairs. He looks perfect, as usual, fully clothed and hair done perfectly, while the rest of them, except Lydia, look like they just woke from the grave. Somehow Lydia never gets bedhead, no matter how many times Stiles has seen her fresh in the morning.

 

They all get dressed, slowly seeing as none of them have had coffee, and head out. Stiles trailing behind the whole group because they’re still shooting looks of pity his way.

 

“Not you, Stiles,” Derek says, grabbing him by his wrist. It takes every muscle in his body not to flinch at the touch, but Stiles has gotten used to hiding his reactions. He’s in a wolf pack, for Christ's sakes, they’re very tactile creatures.

 

Somehow, though, Derek still seems to notice because he drops his hands like Stiles burned him. Stiles knows it’s because Derek doesn’t want to hurt him, but he also knows that Derek isn’t going to touch him anymore for  _ fear _ of hurting him and that bums him out. As much as the initial touch makes him flinch, he does like being touched, craves it actually.

 

Come to think about no one, in the past few days, has touched him. Buried him under there bodies, yes, but no outright, hand on body touches.

 

“Okay, I really don’t think I can do this. If you guys are going to walk on eggshells and act like you can’t even touch me, then I might be better off with my dad, at least there, things are the same. You guys have been treating me different since you all found out, and I thought we’d already covered this but if not--” Stiles stops, not even knowing what he’d do.

 

“Stiles, what do you expect us to do? None of us, bar Isaac, really know what you’re going through, or how to deal with it. We’re just doing what we think is needed, and if you flinch at the slightest form of contact then we think that maybe we shouldn’t touch you. When you wince when you have to get up, we think, maybe we shouldn’t let you get up. There isn’t a guide book to dealing with this Stiles, so sorry if we’re trying to do what’s best for you,” Derek rants.

 

“How about asking me! Huh? Ever think of that? Yes, maybe I do wince when I get up, and I’m human, I heal slowly, but that doesn’t mean that I want you guys to do everything for me, because I do heal. Yes, I do flinch, but I know that you guys aren’t my dad, and I know that you guys won’t hurt me. So no, I don’t want you to stop touching me,” Stiles rants right back, aware, only after he’s stopped talking, how sexual the end sounded.

 

“Okay, then,” Derek says, taking a step back, as if breaking the tension by the movement, and Stiles can feel it dissolving. Almost like it was never there. Derek clears his throat, turning and heading to the kitchen. “I asked you to stay behind because I wanted to know what you wanted to do about… This whole situation. I think it’s best if the pack aren’t here so that you can think for yourself without all their voices in your ear.”

 

“Um,” Stiles says eloquently, trotting over to the island in the middle of the kitchen and sitting on a bar stool. “I… Don’t… Know?” He questions, scared that Derek’s gonna be mad that he doesn’t have a plan. It’s not like he was prepared for this, and yeah, he could’ve spent the last three days preparing for what’s to come, but he’d been angsting over Derek possibly going to jail.

 

“Okay, that’s okay. Well, the main question is..” Derek starts, taking a deep breath, “Do you wanna go back? I kinda dragged you out of there and didn’t ask, and you haven’t said anything so far but, if you really want to go back then there’s nothing I could do to stop you. Which sucks because you really shouldn’t have to--”

 

“No, Derek, I don’t want to go back,” Stiles says, cutting off Derek’s nervous rambling.

 

“Good, good,” Derek clears his throat again, leaning against the counter. “Do you want to report him?”

 

“NO!” Stiles says, probably too quickly and too loudly. “I mean, no.” He says again, more sedated.

 

“Why not?” Derek asks with a pinch between his brows that shows his disapproval but his voice is even, steady.

 

“Because,” Stiles says, an image of Derek in handcuffs in front of the old Hale house popping into his mind.

 

“Stiles, I understand that he threatened me, but think about it like this; the Sheriff would need a reason for arresting me. And even if he fabricated one, he’d need evidence. I don’t think anything’s going to happen to me if you report him if anything people are more likely to believe you because you still have the bruises to show for it,” Derek says, at least feeling better for having said it, knowing that Stiles still wouldn’t change his mind. The boy is loyal to a fault and if he thought that there was even a slim chance of Derek being arrested, he won’t do it.

 

“I just… I can’t Derek.” Stiles says, comforted by Derek’s attempts at trying but knowing that there’s more to it than just Derek going to jail. His dad is the Sheriff, and while he makes for a sucky parent, he’s good at his job. It’d do more harm than good to get the man fired, especially when he’s so well loved around town. 

 

“Okay, well if you don’t want to report him, and you don’t want to go back, then we’ll have to settle this face to face with him, and hope he doesn’t do something stupid,” Derek tells him frankly.

 

Stiles knows that there’s a high chance that a verbal confrontation can go bad because his father’s drunkenness makes his tongue loose and his rational practically non-existent. The Sheriff could react a number of ways and they’d have to be prepared for anything; even the worst-case scenario of them having to call the cops on his father anyway.

 

“Let’s hope that there’s still a glimmer of my father in there somewhere,” Stiles says sadly.

 

Derek comes around the island and places a hand on the small of Stiles’s back, comforting and reassuring at the same time. Stiles leans back into the touch, sending a grateful smile in the man’s direction. He’s not okay, not even close because he knows what’s yet to come, but with Derek’s steady weight behind him, and knowing that he has the packs support no matter what, he knows that he can handle whatever’s coming his way.


End file.
